


Today and Tomorrow

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime sneaks into Brienne's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coraleeveritas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/gifts).



> This is for Coraleeveritas who seems to never lose her drive and inspiration.

It all started for Jaime three weeks ago. He and Brienne had been the last two at the gym, working out as they usually did, planning to grab some dinner before heading home. She’d left her towel and phone on the weight bench and he’d gone into the ladies’ changing room to return them.

And there she was, in the shower, soap bubbles sliding off her skin, those acres of bare, pale, freckled flesh.  She was washing her stomach and her breasts, so small and pert.  Her hand had just moved further down when he made some noise that got her attention. She’d shouted at him to get out, covering herself with her hands before grabbing a towel. He should have waited outside. He should have left the moment he’d heard the shower running. He should never have looked. He should never have stood there watching. He should have gone when she’d asked him. He hadn’t. And now he couldn’t get the image of his best friend naked out of his mind.

At first, he’d tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. Brienne had blushed when she’d finally met him at the door of the gym, choosing to skip their post workout meal. She’d blushed again when they’d met again for their usual Tuesday lunch. Pretending he hadn’t seen her didn’t work for either of them. He’d finally resorted to jokes about her breasts, and that at least seemed to make her more comfortable, if the constant memory caused a certain tightness in his trousers.

It had gotten easier for _her_. She’d fallen back into the same routine they’d had since college: lunches, dinners, workouts, complaining about work and family and friends, seeing the latest movies at midnight when they came out. For _him_ , it had all changed. He found himself compelled to pull out her chair, take her to dinner at nice restaurants instead of their usual sandwich shops; he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth when she talked, and he spent more time cataloging her reactions than watching the films.

Tyrion had laughed at him for being obsessed with his own best friend. But still, there it was every time he closed his eyes, the sight of Brienne naked. She’d gotten into his blood, and he knew of only one way to get her out.

Last week, he’d just come out with it and suggested they have sex. Both of them had needs, he told her, why not take care of them together? It was all right between friends, wasn’t it? He'd tried a half dozen arguments. She’d scoffed and hadn’t taken him seriously, at least not at first. She’d thought he was joking, then mocking, then she’d accused him of being drunk. Eventually, she’d just shaken her head at him and left.

That was two days ago and he hadn’t heard from her since. He was desperate. Desperate for _her_. Sneaking into her house at midnight probably wasn’t the best idea, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d crawled into her bed in the middle of the night. It would just be the first time he’d crawled into her bed with an intention other than sleep.

His hand trembled as he reached to open her bedroom door. He’d done this hundreds of times, since they’d first bonded when he’d broken all the bones in his hand and she’d helped him with his physical therapy. She knew his secrets, all of them, even the worst ones, and still she cared for him. She was Brienne. And he couldn’t stop thinking about her naked.

Inside her room, he could see her facing away from him, the moonlight spilling from the window to dance over her bare shoulder. She always wore a thin, tight, sleeveless shirt, like the type she wore to workout and men’s boxers to bed. He pulled off his shirt and shimmied out of his pants, lifting the blankets and sliding in beside her. She didn’t stir, but let out a small snore. He smiled to himself as he curved his body around hers, placing his palm flat on her stomach, and kissed the side of her neck.

For a moment, she relaxed back against him and he could have sworn she whispered his name. Then she was stiff and pulling away from him as she woke up.

“Jaime,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

He pulled her back towards him, pressing his hardness into her backside. “What does it feel like I’m doing?” he whispered back. He rubbed her stomach softly.

She sucked in a ragged breath. His instinct was to kiss her neck, turn her so she was on her back and he could finally claim her mouth, her pouty, too full, too red, often scowling mouth. He wanted her to want this as well, wanted her to want him. So he waited.

“This is a terrible idea,” she whispered.

“No it’s not,” he argued in a normal tone, “and we are the only ones in your apartment, there is no need to whisper.”

“Yes, it is,” she insisted, much louder now.

“Come on, Brienne, we’ve known each other for years. We know everything about each other except this.” He tried to insinuate one of his legs between hers but she wouldn’t have it.

He kissed her neck again and heard her inhale sharply. There it was, that sound, her desire for him in that quick intake of breath. Something inside him eased. He wasn’t alone in wanting this.

She pulled away. “No, Jaime.” She was practically on the edge of the bed now.

He rolled over on his back, releasing his hold on her. “Why not?”

She was silent for a moment before turning over to face him.

He looked at her again, her eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

“If we do this, what happens tomorrow?” she whispered so softly he barely heard her.

He laughed. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday, so we usually workout and then go to the Lyseni buffet and stuff ourselves, then we pick a movie and hang out here.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He rolled on his side to face her. “No?”

“If we do this, how can we go back to that?”

“What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she had a look of resolve. He watched the muscles tensing in her throat as she swallowed thickly. His palms itched to touch her.

“I mean, if we do this, how do I tell you about my date with Hyle?”

He stiffened, “You are not getting back together with that asshole.” Brienne’s ex-boyfriend had hurt her terribly and had almost driven a wedge in their friendship. _Almost_.

She shook her head, “No, I’m not. But I mean how do I tell you about my dates or the guys I sleep with?”

He chuckled, “Come on, wench, I know you don’t do one night stands.” It was killing him not to reach for her, kiss her, feel her squirm underneath him.

She bit her lip. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, thinking you want me. And no, I don’t do one night stands, and you don’t either. But that’s what _this_ ,” she motioned back and forth between them, “would be.”

She was blinking now, and her eyes were glassy.

“Brienne, it wouldn’t be like that…” he began.

She shook her head again. “Yes, it would Jaime. It would be awful and we wouldn’t be able to talk or look at each other again without it all feeling wrong.” She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, “You’re my best friend, and if we did this, we wouldn’t be friends anymore.” She hiccupped slightly, “I can’t lose my best friend.”

He reached out to her face, letting his thumb trace underneath her eye, feeling the slight dampness there. “You wouldn’t lose me. I promise.”

“Think about it, Jaime. Think about tomorrow." 

Her gaze was unbearable. He closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought about tomorrow, or the next day. He’d just been consumed with a need to touch her, feel her, take her and hadn’t even considered the _after_ , that everything would be different, that _they_ would be different. He could hear her labored breathing beside him.

He exhaled. “I’m sorry, Brienne. I wasn’t thinking.”

He felt her tense beside him before she relaxed. She forced out a chuckle, “Well, is _thinking_ really your strong point?”

His hand sought out hers. “I’m a good thinker. I’m just better on impulse.” He ran his knuckles across her palm. “Can I stay?” he whispered.

It seemed an age before she answered.

“Yes.”

 


	2. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wakes up with Jaime the next morning.

Brienne snuggled into the warmth behind her and felt her nipple harden as a hand tightened briefly on her breast. Jaime let out a contented snore. Her eyes popped open.

This wasn’t the first time she’d awakened cuddled up with her best friend. They always gravitated towards one another in their sleep. His words from years ago echoed in her head, “Is that your tit? Really?” He’d squeezed it on purpose then. “It fits right in my palm, but it’s hardly a handful.” She’d elbowed him in the ribs hard enough to bruise and he’d laughed. Jaime always laughed. It hadn’t meant anything then. _And it doesn’t mean anything now,_ she told herself.

She wasn’t sure what had come over him with this odd idea that they should have sex. _Just to satisfy our curiosity_ , he’d said. Only Jaime had never been curious before. This was going to be like his infatuation with gluten-free eating or watching subtitled films, another in a series of brief obsessions. Jaime had never even owned the same car for more than eighteen months. This would pass, too.

Just for a moment last night, she’d let herself hope. The way his fingers had caressed her skin, the feel of his lips on her neck. She had no idea when she’d fallen in love with him, probably sometime after her nasty breakup with Hyle, but maybe even before that. She was already regretting telling Jaime _no_. She’d dreamed of his hands and his mouth last night . . . and the rest of him.

Almost on instinct, she pressed back into him, feeling him hard against her. Hard _for_ her. She caught her breath and wiggled just a little closer, rubbing against him. His hand moved on her breast then, his thumb brushing over her nipple, and she was hit by the realization that he was awake. She moved away from him, rolling partially on her stomach. Maybe he’d think she was asleep.

His hand left her and she could tell as he ran it through his hair before he rolled away, on his side with his back to her. She lay there in silence, thoughts racing through her head. This was Jaime. She might never again have a chance to be with him. Did she want to go through her life not knowing? Did he even still want her? Was he regretting even touching her last night? She felt lost without his warmth.

She rolled over to curl her body around his and draped her arm around his waist. He wasn’t gone. He was still with her, solid and strong. She waited for him to get up, or push her away, some sign that he realized he’d made a mistake. Or even one of his stupid jokes to let her know nothing had changed. Just something.

She pressed her forehead into his warm back as she listened to him breathe. She felt his muscles coil as he slowly moved his arm. He cupped her hand in his, playing with her fingers. Then he tugged her hand lower, so it rested lightly on his hard cock. He drew his hand away. She inhaled the scent of his bare skin. She extended one finger and traced the ridge of him. He let out a shaky breath.

He rolled over to face her and brushed the hair from her face. He stared into her eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed her. At first, just the tender touch of his lips on hers, then a deep, wanting kiss.

His lips were strong as they moved over hers, his tongue exploring her mouth with such certainty. It was all she could do to keep up with the onslaught. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on her ribs and back, pulling her shirt over her head; on her stomach and thighs, removing her boxers and his as well, molding his body to hers, skin to skin.

He kissed his way down her throat to her breasts, suckling first one then the other. She stroked his arms and back, scraping her blunt nails down his side to feel the muscles working under his skin. Jaime fit so perfectly on top of her. Hyle had always made her feel huge and ungainly. With Jaime, she felt right. She hooked one leg around his and felt his cock against her inner thigh.

He drew back and looked at her. She was ready, more than ready. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers as he eased inside her. She arched her back to meet him. He braced himself on his forearms and his breath stuttered against her neck, a whisper of her name, as he began to thrust slowly, hot and hard, stretching her, filling her.

She wrapped her legs around him, trying to memorize every sensation, the feel of her breasts pressed into his chest, the smell of his hair, his lips on her neck and jaw, suckling, leaving a mark, a reminder. She stroked the nape of his neck and kneaded the muscles in his shoulders all while kissing his forehead, trying to find a way to make it last.

It was building too fast; it would end too soon. She cried out his name, and he was pulsing, throbbing, emptying himself inside her. He collapsed on her chest, their sweat slick between them. She felt him soften and slip from her. She stroked the planes of his shoulders one more time as he rolled over onto his back beside her. She closed her eyes as they lay there in silence. _What had she done?_

He inhaled sharply. Here it was. He was going to tell her this was a mistake, that they should forget this ever happened. She could see it happening. They’d pretend for a while, but then he’d stop returning her calls. They’d stop hanging out. They’d go days without talking to one another, then weeks, then months. Eventually it would be as if they were strangers.

“I spent all night thinking about what you said,” he began, not looking at her but at the ceiling. “Thinking about _us_.”

She pulled the sheet up over her chest.

“What would happen tomorrow—today now, I guess. And I thought about all the possibilities. Of us not being friends anymore,” he went on.

She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry.

“I realized I can’t have that, Brienne. If you want to just pretend this didn’t happen, I can try, but I don’t think I can do it. You’re right, I don’t think I can look at you the same way again.” His hand reached out and his fingertips brushed against hers. “I can’t not have you in my life.”

She reached out a pinky and hooked it around his finger. He turned his hand into hers, his thumb making tiny circles on the soft skin of her wrist. She trembled at the contact, the bare thread of hope that their friendship could be salvaged.

He spoke again to the ceiling, “I know what I am. I’m a sarcastic ass. I’m mean and rude. I’ve done terrible things. Other than you and Tyrion, the only friends I have are those that can be bought. People don’t actually like me. Why would they? There’s not much about me that’s worthwhile.”

She turned her head to stare at him, perfect, golden, _beautiful_ Jaime Lannister. How could he think he wasn’t worthwhile? He didn’t turn to look at her.

“I’m not like you, Brienne. I’m not good or honorable or true.”

She knew differently. She started to speak but the squeeze of his hand stopped her.

“I can’t give you all the things you deserve and I’m not a man who deserves you. And I know you’re not in love with me, but if you just give me a chance, I could love you enough for both of us.”

He did turn to her then. She’d never seen his eyes so full of fear and doubt, and she had seen him through his worst.

She pulled her fingers from his and reached out to stroke his jaw. He closed his eyes and she smoothed her thumb across his brow. She pressed her lips to his, hoping he felt what she was afraid to say.

He touched his forehead to hers and opened his eyes.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have pondered the ending of this several times and I'm almost happy with these last three sentences. It went several different ways. Please let me know if you like the ending or not, and if not, specifically what struck a bad cord. I feel like I lost cadence...I don't know. Suggestions are helpful.
> 
> And thanks to Quinn and JaG and furi for listening to me about this.


End file.
